


duty-bound

by gortysproject



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: (v a g u e l y), Alternate Universe - College/University, Established Relationship - Daniel Jacobi/Warren Kepler, M/M, Polyamory, Pre-Alcoholism Eiffel, Sexual Content, Slightly Drunk Driving, Tag Yourself I'm Minkowski, They're Actually Normal 20 Year Olds So Kepler And Jacobi Are Vaguely Decent People, This Was Originally Me Joking Around On Discord And Now, Yet Another Instalment Of 'Jacobi Is A Mess'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 16:52:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11627790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gortysproject/pseuds/gortysproject
Summary: Doug Eiffel kicks over a trash can. Warren Kepler, President of the Student Government, has never been so personally affronted in his life.Plus, tasers, kicking a car horn, not having it figured out by tomorrow, and two Daniel Jacobis.





	duty-bound

**Author's Note:**

> ai said "kepcoffel college au" and i immediately responded "kepler's the student union president and he's trying to murder eiffel for littering one time in the courtyard". then i accidentally wrote it. then it accidentally became over 4000 words.
> 
> anyway, thanks to ai, erik and lesk for shitposting with me

“It’s ridiculous,” Warren insists.

“Mhm.”

“ _Lazy_ ,” he spits, adjusting his position to level his shoulders with his aim.

“Yeah.”

“Just – an _outright_ display of disrespect!” He throws the dart. As expected, it hits the board perfectly, right over where the triple eighteen would’ve been. He raises the second dart.

“Sure is,” Daniel responds dully, flicking to the next page of his textbook from where he’s sprawled out on the bed.

Warren throws the second dart. From what he can tell, it probably hits the single twenty, but it’s exactly where he was aiming. “And he thinks he has the right to just – _ignore_ me?”

“Uh huh,” Daniel says obediently, as Warren tosses the last dart at the board. “Think that’s eighty-nine. Not bad.”

“I’m not playing to score _points_ , Daniel,” Warren hisses. But Daniel already knows this; it would be physically impossible _not_ to know this. Daniel’s calculation of where Warren’s darts have landed are a speculative guess, since he can’t see most of the actual board itself.

This is mainly because of the large, printed-out ID photograph of Doug Eiffel pinned over it, currently with two darts sticking out of his eyes and a third stabbing through the centre of his forehead.

“I know,” Daniel replies monotonously. “Just saying.”

“Are you even _listening_ to me?” Warren asks.

Daniel pushes his hair out of his eyes, slightly offended. “ _Yeah_. Some guy kicked over a trash can in the courtyard and now you want to strap him to a torture rack and interrogate him on who he’s working for and why he’s trying to sabotage the college.”

“I don’t –” Warren sighs. “I asked him _politely_ , as President of the Internal Student Government, to pick up the trash he’d just thrown _all over the ground_.”

“Uh huh,” Daniel replies disbelievingly. “See, this text from Rachel says otherwise.” He clears his throat dramatically as he tugs his cell phone out, reading off the screen. “ _Kepler’s heading over to you. Just watched him throw his phone at some stoner. Think he tried to pull a taser on him? Don’t reply to this_.”

A pause hangs in the air between them.

“Young was exaggerating,” Warren says, as Daniel asks, “Why do you carry a _taser_?”

There’s another pause, before Warren carefully lowers himself down onto the bed by Daniel’s feet. “I’m going to have to ask Rachel _not_ to commentate on my _every_ behaviour. Also, aren’t you supposed to be a tiny bit more supportive, Daniel?”

Daniel huffs noncommittally. “You know, when I get a text that says _Kepler’s in a mood, also he’s coming over to you_ , I sure as hell wasn’t expecting _this_.” A slight pout curves at his lips. “ _Something_ in this room needed to get pinned to the wall and deal with your anger, sure, but it wasn’t the _dartboard_.”

Warren blinks. Daniel sees the moment his comment registers on his face, as his lips part helplessly around words that don’t quite yet exist. He takes pity on him.

“Anyway, if you got any more pent-up rage to work through, now’s the time to let me know. I got no plans, two beers, condoms in the bag and I even took a _shower_.”

“Charming,” Warren mutters, pretending to be disappointed as Daniel grins up at him from where he’s still sprawled out on the bed. It’s not like Warren’s exactly going to say _no_. They both know it.

 

* * *

 

Later, when they’re laying down together, the idea hits Warren. Daniel is back to flicking through his textbook and Warren is beside him, content with merely wrapping unkempt hair around his fingers as he scratches them lightly over Daniel’s scalp. He stays silent for a moment longer, appreciative of the scene – the warmth built up under their duvet, the press of skin against skin, the way Daniel’s head tilts into the palm of his hand expectantly – but also thinking, planning, deciding.

Warren speaks up a few minutes later, opening with, “How would you feel about a dinner date? Beautiful restaurant, good food, champagne, maybe, a live band?”

Daniel hesitates, before dropping the open book onto his chest. “Sure. Tonight?”

Hand leaving Daniel’s hair to reach for his cell, Warren hums in agreement. “Tonight is probably fine.”

“And you’re picking up the bill?” Daniel asks, pushing the book off his chest to roll over and prop himself up on one elbow. Warren unlocks his phone, sending a quick message to Alana before he looks back at him with a slight smirk tilting the corners of his lips.

“I doubt you’d even turn up if I didn’t,” he replies, and Daniel leans forward, kissing the smirk away. Warren responds gently, easily, pushing Daniel’s slightly sweat-matted hair out of his eyes and holding his head there as he kisses deeper – until his phone buzzes between them, and he pulls away, lifting it up to check his message.

His smile returns. “Get dressed, darling,” he tells Daniel, who frowns at him. It’s only half three; it’s far too early for the aforementioned dinner date. “You need to go ask your date out.”

Daniel blinks. “What.”

“Alana says,” Warren replies, “that my assumption was correct, and Doug Eiffel _was_ heading to the library. He’s still there with a couple of friends.” He glances away from the screen to look at his boyfriend. “He’s your date.”

“ _He’s my_ – you’re joking.” Meeting Warren’s steady, even gaze, Daniel realises with horror: “You’re not joking.”

Warren rolls himself up to meet Daniel, leaning on one elbow, unruffled by his reaction. “I need to find out everything I can about him,” he starts, “to –”

“He kicked over a trash can!” Daniel protests.

“And you can have the delightful job of finding out _why_ ,” Warren responds calmly. “Is he a repeat offender? Is that the _only_ law he’s breaking on campus? I have a duty, here, darling, and I’m not about to let this man sink below my radar. Besides, it’s only one date.”

“Then you date him,” Daniel huffs, rolling onto his back.

Watching him drop down, Warren replies, “He already knows who I am. You, on the other hand…” A pause. He changes tactics. “It’s an all-expenses-paid dinner with an arguably attractive man, but if that’s not enough of a reward in itself, I’m sure I could find something else to give you.”

His voice lowers, then, and he presses a single kiss to Daniel’s bare shoulder. Another kiss against his collarbone. A third at the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Imperceptibly, Daniel tilts his head, allowing Warren the space to continue his journey upward.

Slightly breathless, Daniel mutters, “And if he’s not into guys?” and Warren knows he’s won him over. “Or, uh, not single? Or – fuck.” His breathing stutters as Warren grazes his teeth over his throat.

“Then spend _time_ with him,” Warren drawls, lips brushing faintly over skin as he talks. “As… friends. Less effective, but it’ll have to do.”

Warren’s hand skates down Daniel’s waist, and Daniel’s hips jerk up into the touch reflexively. “Sir,” he whimpers, and despite only finishing minutes before, there’s already a stirring low in Warren’s gut at Daniel using a title kept _exclusively_ for the bedroom. He pulls away before he can be enticed back in.

“We can pick this up again later,” he tells him, face impassive despite the urge he has to grin at Daniel’s dumbfounded gaze. “A reward isn’t a reward if I give it to you _before_ you do your job.”

“Pay in advance?” Daniel tries.

Warren hums. “Better luck next time, Mr Jacobi,” he replies. “If you play your cards right, next time might be very, very soon.”

 

* * *

 

Here’s the problem. Warren wasn’t wrong. Daniel _did_ play every card right – so much so that he must’ve won the jackpot – because he’s staring his _next time_ directly in the face, and it’s a face he recognises from his dartboard. Doug Eiffel, in only a shirt despite the snow falling around them, definitely not drunk but (like Daniel himself) tipsy enough to think anything sounds like a good idea, is gazing at him with warm eyes and a suggestive, “My place is only around the corner.”

And Daniel has no idea what to say.

The afternoon had been, for want of a better word, eventful. Daniel made it down to the library very quickly – no shower, no new clothes, not even a comb to stick in his hair because _it’s my natural charm_ , he promised Warren, who only rolled his eyes in return. Meeting Alana at the library was easy. Getting instructions from her as to Doug Eiffel’s whereabouts was even easier. Avoiding her question, “Why do you suddenly care about this guy?” was significantly more difficult.

He brushed it off. “Saw him around, Warren mentioned him, wanted to chat.”

She didn’t believe a word of it, and he didn’t expect her to, but he pushed away from the table and in Doug’s direction before Alana could protest.

Getting Doug to agree to a date was Daniel’s biggest hurdle; he had nothing on him. No knowledge on his favourite things, no idea what he does in his spare time, no classes with him and no idea what he was like as a person. When Daniel found him, he was sat at a table with two girls – one of them Daniel recognised as being something to do with the Student Government, and _did she compete with Warren for President?_ He remembers her, vaguely. Her name was Polish. She was short, and annoying. That she was friends with Doug didn’t bode well for Daniel.

Doug wasn’t at the library for himself, that much was for sure. He was holding a textbook, and, from where Daniel was standing, he could hear him testing the other girl – not the Polish one, the tall one with wide eyes and an irritating stutter – on something that sounded a _lot_ like the stuff Maxwell’s always talking about: the study of artificial intelligence.

He headed over. “Hey,” he started, hand pressing against the surface of the table as he leant over. “Where’d you get that textbook? I was looking for the exact same one, couldn’t see it anywhere.”

The wide-eyed girl’s eyes went… wider. “It was th-the only copy of it on the shelf,” she told him.

He looked disappointed. Inside, he was ecstatic. “You gonna be using it for long?”

“No,” she replied immediately, as Eiffel butted in, “She’s got a test tomorrow.”

The wide-eyed girl glared at Eiffel, and Eiffel glared back. _Protective_. Daniel could work with protective. Still, Eiffel butting in gave him the chance to turn his attention on him, looking slightly surprised, and saying, “Eiffel, right? Doug Eiffel? Wouldn’t have expected you to be holding that textbook.”

This is because the one thing he was able to discern about Eiffel for the thirty seconds he was hanging behind a bookcase and listening to him test the wide-eyed girl was that he had no idea about _anything_ to do with artificial intelligence. Daniel recognised that, too – he saw himself in this man, in late nights spent with Alana as she floundered over upcoming exams.

Eiffel looked suitably taken aback. “Do I… know you?”

“Ha,” Daniel replies, “figures. We met a couple months back? Pretty sure you’re the one I gave my number and never called me back.” A pause. “Unless I’m thinking of someone else…”

“No, that sounds like Doug,” the Polish girl replied curtly.

Doug turned to her, mockingly affronted. “ _Hey_. That sounds _nothing_ like Doug.” Back to Daniel. “But, uh, sorry, man. I totally don’t remember that. I mean, _definitely_ don’t, ’cause if I knew I had _your_ number, I’d have _so_ called it by – ow.”

The Polish girl had kicked him under the table. “Study time, not flirting time.”

Daniel chuckled. “Right, yeah, I’m interrupting. Keep the book, I don’t think it was that important.” He turned to leave, but hesitated just before. His eyes darted to Doug’s. “Unless…”

“Unleeeess?”

“Date just cancelled on me tonight,” Daniel told him, sounding… appropriately disappointed. It wasn’t difficult to when he could imagine Warren in his mind. “But I haven’t cancelled the restaurant booking, yet. If you’d wanna…”

Doug blinked. Daniel silently celebrated when he realised it was a _did I just get that lucky_ kind of blink. “ _Yeah_ ,” he started, and then coughed, and then – “Yeah, sure, I’d wanna. I mean.”

Daniel grinned. “Awesome,” he replied. “Can I trust you enough to give you my number again, or…”

They chatted for a minute longer, before Daniel got banished from the table by the girl he later found out was called Minkowski. He _knew_ it was a Polish name. Dropping Warren a text about the success of his catch, and then heading back to his dorm to get ready, Daniel figured the night wouldn’t be too awful after all.

It wasn’t. It was incredible. He clicked with Doug effortlessly in a way he’s never clicked with _anyone_ before. And here he is, night over, date over, staring at Doug as the man invites him home. The snowflakes are landing in his hair and on his eyelashes. He looks something beautiful, and the tilt of his grin isn’t helping.

Daniel exhales, and the breath comes out as a puff of steam in a cold night. He’s done everything Warren asked of him. He could say no, turn away, go home – go to Warren’s apartment, pick up the reward he was offered in sharp thrusts and clutching fingers and teeth on skin – but he doesn’t _entirely_ want to.

It wouldn’t be cheating. The two of them agreed they aren’t exclusive, but they agreed that _months_ ago, and things have changed, times have changed. Warren loops his arm around Daniel’s waist in public, now. Daniel hasn’t slept with anyone else in half a year.

A moment’s hesitation.

Daniel… compromises.

Doug’s grin widens, and he gives him a chaste peck on the cheek as a goodbye. Daniel pretends he doesn’t want more. Doug offers him a lift home, and Daniel shakes his head, telling him it’s not a long walk.

Doug insists. Daniel climbs in.

The journey is quiet, but not uncomfortably so, with the radio humming some instant pop in the background as they watch the snow fall lightly around them. Doug’s car is old, and rickety, and makes several questionable noises as they hit the icy parts of the road. They both laugh at it.

The car pulls up in front of Daniel’s place. Daniel swears he meant to get out.

But somehow, exiting the car turns into straddling Doug where he sits, and pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against his lips, his jaw, anything he can reach. Doug grips his waist with tight fingers, meeting him halfway. They stay like that for a moment, balancing on the line between lazy and frantic, trading kisses, touches, panting breaths.

Daniel kicks the car horn, accidentally, and it’s enough to jerk them both back into reality. Doug snorts at the shocked look on Daniel’s face. Daniel elbows him in the side.

Immediately after, he mumbles, “I need to go.”

“I know,” Doug replies easily, grip on Daniel’s waist loosening, but at the same time leaning forward to kiss him again. Daniel responds to it, only for a second, before pulling away again.

“No, I – I’m getting out, now,” he tells him. Doug grins.

“’Kay,” he replies, and after watching Daniel fumble for the door handle several times, reaches out to open it himself. Daniel looks suitably embarrassed, and he climbs haphazardly off Doug’s lap, taking care not to hit the horn again as he does so.

“See you tomorrow,” Doug says with a wink, and Daniel remembers his compromise. _Right. Tomorrow. You’ll have it figured out by tomorrow_.

 

* * *

 

He did not have it figured out by tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

Warren hasn’t seen Daniel since his date. Daniel texted him, last night, telling him his date went ‘box with a cross through it’ and that he’d tell him about it when he next saw him. Rachel told him he needs to download emojis. He told her he’d rather die.

Clearly, whatever Daniel tried with Doug _didn’t_ work, if he tried anything at all, because when Warren bumps into Doug the next day – end of the day, just about to head back to his dorm – the guy’s flicking a cigarette butt onto the ground. Warren sighs internally.

“ _Hey_ ,” he calls over, and when Doug turns to face him, his expression betrays his recognition of the man striding over to him.

“Oh, jeez,” he starts, already raising his hands in surrender. “Look, I – please don’t tase me.”

Warren smiles. “Good,” he replies. “You remember me. Why don’t you remember the _clear_ message I gave you about littering on college property?” A step forward. “Or do I need to make it _clearer_?”

“Fuck,” Doug starts, running a hand through his hair. “Look, man, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, but – can you yell at me later? I’ve got this date, and I’m already running late, so –”

Warren interrupts him. “A date?” He’s somewhat surprised by this.

Doug hesitates. “Um, yeah.” At Warren’s raised eyebrow, he takes the prompt to elaborate, even though he clearly has no idea why he needs to. “With this… guy. We met yesterday. He took me out, so now I’m taking him out, and, wait, why do you care about this? Why am I telling you this?”

Warren stares at him, for a moment. “Excuse me,” he says finally. “I need to… make a call.”

“Can I –”

“No, you stay here.”

“Okay,” Doug replies quickly. “Okay. I’ll just. Stay here.”

Warren steps back, tugging out his phone and calling Daniel as he strides away from Doug – far away enough not to be overheard. When Daniel picks up, he doesn’t even give him the chance to finish his confused, “Hello?” before he starts.

“Why are you going on a second date with Eiffel?” he demands.

Daniel’s nervous swallow is almost audible. “You… told me to get him to trust me. All black ops-style. This is me, _gaining his trust_.” Pause. “It’s okay, you’re not paying for this one.”

“I’m not –” Warren cuts himself off. Takes a deep breath. Tries again. “This wasn’t… necessary.”

If he could see Daniel right now, he’d be able to see the utter delight in his eyes at how distressed Warren sounds. How _possessive_ he sounds. But Warren can’t see Daniel, and he’s left guessing just how much his boyfriend has been seduced by this idiot with overgrown hair, a complete disregard for the rules and a _smoking habit_ , of all things –

He pauses in horror at the realisation. There are two Daniel Jacobis.

There’s something cheerful in Daniel’s tone, now, as he responds. “He’s actually a pretty cool guy, Warren,” he says. “You should give him another chance. You might not hate him.”

Warren glances over to Doug. He realises Doug is now walking over. With another sigh, he only says, “I need to go. Talk to you later.”

Hanging up before Daniel can respond, Warren turns to Doug, eyebrows raised and arms crossing with a cold, “What did I tell you about staying where you were?”

“I know! I know,” Doug says quickly. “But you were taking a while. And – like I said. Date.”

“With Daniel Jacobi, right?”

Doug blinks. “Uh,” he replies, intelligently, “yeah.”

“Did he mention anything about not being… exclusive?” Warren squints at Doug, ever so slightly, searching for any kind of reaction. A voice in the back of his mind tells him he’s blowing this out of proportion. Another voice tells him to grab a flashlight and point it in Doug’s face for a proper interrogation.

“Yeah?” Doug replies, pushing his fingers through his hair again nervously. “He said he had a… oh, shit, that’s you.”

Warren hums. “Oh, shit, it is.”

He wonders what Doug will do next. Mostly, he thinks he’ll back down – the man seems like a coward, and Warren’s staking a claim over Daniel he’d be an idiot to try and fight against. But then Doug’s expression changes, fractionally, and Warren wonders if he really _will_ try to fight against it and take Daniel on this date anyway. Nothing prepares him for Doug’s actual answer.

“Wanna join us?” he asks, seemingly impulsively.

Warren’s brain short-circuits. “Excuse me?”

“I mean,” Doug continues, rushing through his words, “you’re Daniel’s boyfriend, and I’m taking him out, and you don’t like me, and I’m chill with you being there – we got off on the wrong foot, right? And Daniel won’t mind – will he mind? I don’t _think_ he’d mind, but you know him better, and, uh, I’m paying for the night, so if you wanna…” He trails off. Ahems. “Invitation’s there?”

 

* * *

 

The date is interesting. Warren watches Daniel slip through his fingers and land in Doug Eiffel’s waiting arms. Or, rather, Daniel is nice to Doug, and repeatedly kicks Warren under the table to get him to be _polite_. Doug gets to explain why he kicked the trash can over yesterday – _my girlfriend just dumped me, I kinda failed a test, it was a bad day, I’m sorry, man_ – and Warren grudgingly accepts that this is as decent a reason as he’ll get.

Doug calls Daniel _sweetheart_ , and Daniel represses a smile. Warren calls Daniel _darling_ , and Daniel represses a smirk. Doug, being sat on the same side of the table as Daniel, drapes an arm around his shoulders at some point. Warren tenses. Daniel presses his calf against Warren’s, reassuringly, and he tries to look unbothered by his jealousy. It doesn’t work.

Then Doug turns his warm gaze on Warren, and maybe, just _maybe_ , he sees what Daniel sees in the man. Softness. Comfort. An ease in conversations and a sense of humour to match his natural charm. The worst part is, it looks effortless. Doug isn’t _trying_ to impress Warren – _maybe he is, maybe this is a dedicated charm and you’re falling for it_ – but something about him draws him in nonetheless.

Warren sees how Daniel looks at Doug, and he can only consider it to be a sort of fondness, as though Doug is a stray and Daniel is enamoured enough to take him in.

Doug isn’t a threat to Warren. But he is an _idiot_.

A chivalrous idiot, it turns out, when the bill arrives and he immediately takes it. “Hey, it was my night,” he says. “Daniel paid yesterday – and yesterday was freaking _expensive_.”

“Thiiiiis is the fanciest place I’ve ever stood in,” Daniel counters, and Warren makes a mental note to take him somewhere fancier because _that can’t do_.

“Yeah,” Doug mumbles, uncomfortably, “well, yours was real nice, and I didn’t exactly wanna drop the ball.”

He glances down at the bill. Both Daniel and Warren see the fear flash through his eyes. “I can,” he continues, stumbling slightly over the words, “I can totally pay this. It’s fine.”

If Daniel were a better person, he’d offer to pay. He isn’t, so he kicks Warren and glares at him to make him pay instead. Warren glares back. No words are spoken, but Daniel tells him, _you’ve gotta pay for this_ , and Warren replies, _I thought you said I wasn’t paying tonight_ and Daniel replies, _you’re the rich guy, here. Eiffel’s broke. Just do it_.

Still silently, Daniel then adds, _please?_

Warren sighs. “Doug,” he says, and Daniel leans back in his chair smugly. “I’ll pay.”

“What?” Doug protests. “No, I said I’d –”

“I’ll barely notice the cost,” Warren tells him, brutally honest as he tugs the receipt out of Doug’s hand. Slowly, carefully, he adds, “It would be… wrong, to make you pay this.”

Warren pays. Doug thanks him. Daniel thanks him with a slow kiss that tastes faintly like champagne. Doug thanks him again, sans kiss. When they leave the restaurant, back in the snow, Doug and Daniel wearing matching tipsy grins and both slinging an arm around Warren’s waist to pull him close against the harsh winter breeze, Warren pretends he’s irritated by their clinginess.

“I’ll pay for the next date,” Doug promises, tall enough that the words are murmured almost directly into Warren’s ear.

“Mm, you should,” he replies, unaffected, heading towards the car Doug drove him here in. Then – “Wait, next date?”

“Come on, babe,” Daniel chips in, and Warren knows he’s not sober when he resorts to pet names like _babe_. “You had fun. Admit it, you had fun.” He leans his face into Warren’s shoulder, pushing a cold nose into a warm jacket. Warren doesn’t answer.

Doug pulls out his car keys. Warren takes them from him. Doug, thankfully, does not protest this judgement of sobriety, and steps away to allow Warren to unlock what he can only consider to be a rusty, battered excuse for a car and slide inside. Doug gets in shotgun. Daniel climbs into the backseat behind them, but before Warren can start the engine, he feels arms snake around his neck from behind and Daniel’s breath, hot against his ear. “Back to my place?”

Something stirs in Warren’s gut. Daniel asks this question to him not with the awkwardness of a second date, the way he looks when his gaze turns on Doug next to them, but for Warren, the familiarity of a relationship that’s lasted a year. This is the dedication and adoration of a man who knows exactly what to expect from him.

If he even _thought_ about saying no to him, it disappears the moment Daniel presses a kiss to his clothed shoulder, and then another one to the back of his neck, naked, exposed. Doug is staring. Warren is satisfied.

He starts the engine. “Back to your place.”

 

* * *

 

In the darkness of the night, in the alcoholic haze of hands pressing against chests and lips pressing against whatever skin they can find, of wandering fingers that press deep and thick and gasping moans that echo through the room, none of them think to admire Daniel’s bedroom’s décor. All three of them are dedicated to a task at hand, of tugging on sweat-matted hair and shaking with pleasure and collapsing, together, a sticky mess of three men in a single bed.

Daniel falls asleep with his face pressed into Warren’s chest and Doug’s arm wrapped around his waist. It’s peaceful. It’s quiet. It’s safe.

Come morning, they’re reminded of the dartboard on the wall, Doug’s massacred eyes and forehead still pinned against it violently. Warren and Daniel both freeze when Doug turns to it.

“He was _really_ messed up about that trash can,” Daniel explains, but he doesn’t need to. Doug is already wiping away tears of laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> if you don't hate my guts by now, find me @aihera on tumblr


End file.
